


Primavera

by BarPurple



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Embarrassment, Gen, Hoodoo, Magic, Witches, non-major character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:57:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4414880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poets might use the phrase 'rose red lips' but this is taking things far too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“This is weird. I mean it’s not the weirdest thing we’ve ever seen, but it’s still pretty weird.”

Suited and booted in their FBI threads Sam and Dean, or rather Agents Cooper and Furnier, were alone in the morgue of Wood Lake, Nebraska. On the slab in front of them was the body of the fourth victim of what the local press had dubbed the Rose Killer.

It wasn’t an imaginative name when you looked at the climbing dog rose that wound out of the open mouth of the body. Dean bent down and lifted the plant slightly with a probe. Sam held the chest x-ray the medical examiner had given them up to the light.

“The rose is rooted in the heart. It’s grown up and out of the throat.”

Dean straightened up and frowned at his brother.

“This grew out of them? I’m not much of a gardener, but if that was possible, wouldn’t than take weeks or months?”

Sam handed the x-ray to Dean who took it and boggled at the evidence. The roots of the rose were indeed twisted around the victim’s heart and there were vines and leaves filling the airway. Dean gave a small shuddered, this would have been a painful and terrifying way to die.

“For an ordinary rose growing in normal conditions it’d take a month to get like this. According to one of the witness this guy, Joel Atkins, started choking and then ‘puked this plant thingy’ in a matter of minutes.”

Sam blew out a sigh and looked at his brother across the body. They shared a look that said they both knew what they were looking for.

“Freakin’ witches.”


	2. Chapter 2

The motel was thankfully a plain and functional affair. Dean headed for the shower while Sam got to work on research. Glad to be out of the monkey suit Dean tried to ease his aching muscles under the trickle of water. To be honest the water pressure wasn’t that bad, it just wasn’t anywhere near as good as the showers in the Bunker. 

As he got his hair wet he spotted the little row of complimentary shower gels on the side of the tub. There was quite a range. Picking up the purple one Dean opened the cap and sniffed. Instantly he was reminded of the scent of the flowers that had choked the guy in the morgue. Wiping water out of his eyes he read the label with a frown. The label claimed this was lavender. Scanning the rest of the bottles Dean spotted a pink one that declared itself to be rose. A quick sniff confirmed this and left Dean with puzzled frown on his face. Opting for the basic plain soap he finished he shower quickly and headed into the bedroom holding the purple and pink bottles in his hand.

Sam didn’t even glance up from his laptop screen as the bathroom door opened. Years on the road had meant the brothers had perfected the illusion of privacy. Sam would not take his eyes off the screen in front of him until Dean spoke, which was the signal that he was at least decent, if not fully dressed.

“Hey, Sammy, did the morgue smell of anything to you?”

Sam glanced up as Dean now clad in jeans was pulling a t-shirt over his head.

“Erm flowers I guess. Not surprising really.”

Dean threw him the two little bottles of shower gel, which Sam caught in one giant hand.

“Which one of those did it smell like?”

Dean flopped down on one of the beds and watched as Sammy read the labels and opened the pink bottle first. After taking a sniff he tilted his head and rechecked the label. The purple bottle got a sniff and Sam’s eyebrows hiked up in surprise.

“Okay. So, why did what looked like a dog rose smell of lavender?”

Dean shrugged.

“No idea, but it makes this look even more like a spell of some sort.”

Nodding slowly Sam ran through typical revenge spells in his mind. Lavender didn’t feature in any of the ones he could remember off hand. He held his notes out towards Dean who stretch over without getting up to take them.

“Okay, so get this, the four victims are connected. They’ve all had disputes with a Prudence Taylor-Ward who’s the secretary of the town council."

Dean was flicking through Sam’s notes, his eyes getting wider the more he read.

“So we’re thinking that Pru is ganking people with flowers because they’ve played music at ‘anti-social levels’, or ‘let their front yard become an eyesore’?”

Sam ran his hands through his hair as he stretched back in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

“People had committed murder for less.”

With a shake of his head Dean sighed.

“How we gonna do this then?”

“I’ll research the spell, while you grab dinner. Then I guess we interview Pru.”

Dean bounced to his feet. Glad for the chance to stretch his legs and avoid research.

“Deal, but I’m not buying you a salad.”


	3. Chapter 3

Tracking the spell down had proved simple enough. It was more hoodoo that witchcraft, requiring a rose shaped totem and something belonging to the victim for the casting. Suited up once more Sam and Dean headed to the home of their suspect for a little chat.

Prudence Taylor-Ward was a prim and proper looking woman of about fifty. She was very proud of the town and could trace her lineage back to the first settlers. Left alone for a moment as she prepared tea, Dean nudged Sam and sniffed the air. The whole place reeked of lavender. Sam gave a quick nod and glanced around the room. There was nothing apparent that suggested that this woman was killing people, but it would have just been too easy if she’d had the tools of her craft on display. They didn’t get a chance to try the classic ‘may I use your restroom’ excuse to snoop upstairs, but they did discover that Pru would be attending her church choir that evening.

Just after six that evening Sam and Dean were carefully breaking into the neat, picture postcard house. It was a simple job of opening the back door and walking in.

“Guess there are some small towns where they do leave the doors unlocked.”

Sam shrugged and put his lock picks back in his pocket. A quick sweep of the ground floor revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Dean gave the basement door a nod as Sam headed upstairs. On the second floor Sam found a bathroom, an office in the box room and the master bedroom. Deciding to start in the bedroom Sam opened the closet and checked under the bed without finding anything, there weren’t even dust bunnies. Where would a neat freak, town proud, woman keep hoodoo paraphernalia? Without thinking about what he was doing Sam opened the top drawer of the dresser and immediately spotted a red rose. Picking it up carefully Sam gave the object a curious look.

It was a glass ornament, about seven inches long. The clear glass body undulated in and out and was topped with a beautifully detailed red glass rose. Sam was trying to decide if this was the totem they were looking for when a snort of laughter from the doorway made him jump. Dean was stood in the doorway holding an accounting ledger, His green eyes were wide open and he was clearly trying not to laugh again.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

Sam held up the glass rose.

“Wondering if this might be what we’re looking for. It was stashed in the top drawer.”

Dean bit his lip and closed his eyes; it took him a second to be sure he wasn’t going to burst into gales of laughter.

“Sammy that is not what we are looking for. That is a glass dildo. What sort of hoodoo hex hurling witch would keep curse objects in her underwear drawer?”

With horror widened eyes Sam took his first proper look into the top drawer, which was filled with sensible cotton underwear. Then he spotted the half used bottle of lube. With a shudder Sam threw the rose on top of the pants and slammed the drawer shut. Wiping his hands on his shirt Sam turned an impressive bitchface on his smirking brother. Dean shook his head and handed Sam the ledger he was holding.

“There’s an altar in the basement and I found this down there too. Come on.”

Sam flipped the ledger open and saw a neatly written list of names, offences and punishments.

“Wow, looks like Pru has been busy, for years.”

Sam followed Dean to the basement still reading the entries.

“The early entries aren’t lethal, but the get worse as the book goes on.”

“Yeah I guess Pru got to like working mojo on folks.”

Sam looked up from the book and found himself staring at one of the most organized well-stocked hoodoo alter rooms ever. The tall hunter blew a low whistle as he took in the details. Dean nodded towards the altar and its centrepiece, a wooden carve rose. Sam braced himself for some sassy remark from Dean about how that didn’t resemble the glass thing he’d found upstairs. When it didn’t come he looked across at his brother and was surprised to see a downcast look on his face.

“What’s up?”

Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“We’re going to have to gank her aren’t we?”

Sam looked down at the ledger in his hands. The first entry was eleven years ago. Pru may have been on a slow boil, but now she’d dropped four bodies in three weeks. There’d be no way back from that. Sam understood Dean’s sorrow at that, lately the things they were killing tended to be too close to human for comfort. 

“We could try talking to her . . .”

“Oh I don’t think there will be any need for that my dear.”

Pru was standing at the top of the basement stairs. She looked like a normal, calm lady of a certain age, except for the gun in her hand. The gun that Sam realized was steadily aimed at his head. Before he could even swallow the panic that rose up in his throat a gun shot rang out. 

Sam uttered a gasp of panic and for a split second he waited for the searing pain of the bullet. As Pru fell in slow motion down the stairs Sam understood that she hadn’t fired. Still feeling panic gripping his chest Sam looked at Dean and the sight of his brother scared him just a little more. Dean was standing stock still, the gun raised aimed when Pru had been. With the too sharp clarity of such moments Sam saw the wisp of gunsmoke curl from the gun barrel and beyond that the empty stillness of Dean’s green eyes.

“You okay, Sammy?”

The moment of tension broke.

“Yeah I’m fine. I’m fine Dean.”


	4. Chapter 4

In the rear view mirror of the Impala Dean watched as fire licked from the open front door of the Taylor-Ward residence. Sam had been quiet as they set the house to burn to cover their tracks, but Dean knew the way things went down was eating at his little brother. Dean didn’t want to talk about it, so he resorted to one of his standard coping strategies; teasing Sammy.

“You really didn’t know that rose was a dildo, did you?”

Sam blushed slightly.

“Dude! No I didn’t think a glass rose would be that. I mean who’d want one of those made out of glass?”

Dean spared his brother a quick glance and grinned at the red splashed across Sammy’s cheeks. Eyes back on the road Dean couldn’t help saying;

“Oh Sammy, there are some serious holes in your education.”

“Shut up jerk.”

“Make me bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to a great mate of mine, who brought rose shaped glass dildos to my attention. I thought it would be just the thing to make poor, sweet Sammy blush.


End file.
